Tokyo Rumba

I am sitting on the edge of my bed, a band of sunlight, soft, lying faintly warm across my naked thighs. It’s the same bed, in the same room, that I’ve had all my life. A narrow twin bed beneath a big window and it has served my twin brother, Yuki, and I well…a safe haven for the bewildered children we once were and a cotton-draped secret garden of sorts for the lovers we have become. The soft rich colors of the ‘Fruits’ comforter are still my favorites and the fabric smells like fresh laundry and is faintly stiff from drying in the sun.

The comforter is caressing my lightly stroking fingertips and warming beneath my thighs. I close my eyes, savoring the feel and the feelings. One of the things I love most in this world is to be naked on this bed feeling the slight roughness of cool cotton on my back as the warm weight of Yuki presses me deeper. When this life of mine is over--if nothing else remains of what once was--if I can remember the feel of sun-roughened cotton, the smell of Yuki’s warm naked skin and the taste of his kiss sweet on my mouth, then I will not regret a single moment spent with him in this bed.

Yuki is kneeling at my feet. I watch him as he sits back on bare heels, tilting his head, critically surveying his work. Long fingers reach out to smooth a wayward frill on the cuff of my lacey sock. His beautiful face intent, he strokes scratchy red lace, his hand looking very large and very male. He touches a stubborn ruffle gently, lightly shaping it to his satisfaction.

Looking at him, his face, his hands stroking lace…I crave him. A chill shivers across my shoulders and my nipples tighten, tingling. I know that very soon he will be petting the velvety petals of my sex with that same attention to detail. His fingers will slip into my tender slit, my breath will rush from my body and when he stirs those same hot fingers inside me…oh god…

Anticipation tightens things low in my tummy. Eagerness swells and softens the hidden, tightly furled lips of my pussy. My breath hitches, deepens. I bite my lip and then I’m not breathing because I’m creaming, dampening my panties, and it just feels so sweet. My flesh, my body, shifts, fidgets, making room for Yuki. My want of him, my desire for him, takes me from myself, and makes me maybe just a little crazy. If I felt this way about anyone else, it would be frightening. But with Yuki…with Yuki, I just like the way he feels under my skin.

“Yuki, I’m starting the think you might be a pervert.” I laugh, but my heart is fluttering, hunger pressing from my womb into my chest, making my voice husky, my laughter breathy.

“Yui,” Yuki swivels his head looking for my Mary Jane’s. “I’ve been fucking my twin sister since I figured out the difference between boys and girls.” Absently, with an endearing sort of adoration, he touches my calf and strokes the skin with the backs of his fingers. I shiver. “Of course I’m a pervert, idiot. Where’s the other shoe?” Having found one shoe, he continues searching for the other.

“I think you’re at least supposed to pretend to deny it, or something.” My body hums with the heavy promise in those lightly skimming fingers. Sweet little jolts are sparking in my belly but I’m unable not to sputter a laugh at his nonchalant acceptance of his “perversion”.

“Here it is! Voila!” His French pronunciation sucks, but Yuki discovers the missing shoe, not missing, in plain view beside him. “Was it here the whole time?” he asks me with an unintentionally sweet half-smile, an eyebrow quirking a lazy inquiry.

The madness of lust recedes a little as an insanity of another sort bands my chest, steals my breath, something huge and sweet and very sad curling around my heart. I nod an affirmative and smile at him. If my stupid lips are quivering just a little, surely he won’t notice.

Yuki eases my right foot into one of the clunky platform shoes. My foot looks very small, very frivolous, in his calloused hands. Careful of his perfectly formed scarlet frills, Yuki buckles each shoe with a gentle deliberateness and hands that tremble ever so slightly. The chunky soles make my ankles look smaller than they actually are, fragile even, beneath the scarlet nylon ruffles.

Setting my foot flat on the floor Yuki surveys the finished product. His breathing has quickened and the fly of his uniform pants is tented from the pressure of an erection. I want very much to unzip his pants and feel that erection cleaving me, pushing into my tummy over and over until he whispers my name and explodes so deep inside me that some part of him will always be there.

Blushing, embarrassed but unspeakably grateful that he thinks so, I can’t resist reaching out and tugging a lock of his hair. It feels like warm rough silk against my fingertips and I know I will never love anyone the way I love him. “You really are a pervert and you might be developing a foot fetish, too. When did that happen?” I tease, but I think I’m only half kidding about the foot fetish part.

Yuki laughs softly. Parting my thighs, he slides his body between them and delicately kisses the tip of my left breast. “Puberty. Birth, maybe. With my first wet dream about you, surely…” Now his lips sip softly on my right nipple. “I began my decent into perversion, fetishism,” he pauses, thinking, eyes on his hands, watching as they shape the slight, silken mounds of my breasts, “though actually, technically, I think it’s only a fetish if…”

“If you put me on a leash and make me bark like a dog…? Woof!” I grin into Yuki’s eyes. My next “woof” is muffled against his lips, against that mouth that I think I would sell my soul to kiss.

“Shut-up, Yui,” he orders, but I can hear the laughter in his voice, see it in his eyes. His hands, hot and hard, flex on the long muscles of my thighs.

“Is this the part where I’m supposed to cater to your dominate fetish and beg you not to tie me up? Or am I supposed to beg you to tie me up…?” Smiling, I stick my tongue out at him and quick as a snake he’s on his knees pulling my face down to his.

“Is that for me?” he asks of my tongue, and then he sucks it into his mouth in one fervent tug.

Yuki eats at my mouth like it’s candy. Licking, chewing, sucking. Rubbing his hot slippery tongue against mine, loving me, fucking my mouth with slow deep strokes. He touches me nowhere except a hand on each side of my head holding me at the angle he wants. My eyes close and I don’t fall into the kiss so much as dive into it. Dizzy, I hang onto the heavy bones of his wrists, his skin warm and smooth, his pulse throbbing beneath the soft pads of my fingers.

My whole body is pulsing in time to Yuki’s kiss. When he releases my lips his hands are cradling my face. I keep my eyes closed for a moment, reveling in the sweet sting of well-kissed lips. Yuki is panting just inches away and the warm gust of his breath is drying his saliva on my lips. Warm and liquid, desire trickles between my legs.

“Standup.” Yuki’s whispered command is no less forceful for the fact it is whispered, but he is unable to resist tongue painting the swollen curve of my lips one last time before he releases me.

I blink at him, breathing heavy, kiss-muddled, and then I do as he asks for the simple reason, he asked.

Yuki is on his knees at my feet. He sits back on his heels, surveying the me he has created. Standing there in my room while sun dies behind me, I’m very aware that I’m almost naked and Yuki, other than his bare feet, is still fully clothed in his school uniform.

My hair is brushed into the loose stubby ponytails he loves so much. My little titties are bare and my soft pink nipples are tiny tingling points. My panties, a gift from Yuki, are red bikini-cut rumba panties that ride low on my hips. The entire seat is crossed horizontally with tight narrow rows of ruffles. The panties are tiny and flounced and such an intense red they make my skin look like pale honey.

My womb twists and inside slick swollen lips, my clit throbs when I remember how, not speaking, Yuki lovingly eased the ruffle-seated panties up my legs. The skin of his knuckles felt rough skimming the outside of my legs and he covered the swollen folds of my sex only after he placed a tender kiss on the smooth skin of my pubis, grinned at me and whispered, “Rumba panties…let’s dance.”

Yuki can’t keep his hands off the rows of closely pleated fabric running across my bottom or his mouth off of the tiny pink crests of my breasts. I can feel his fingers rippling, flexing, as he kneads ruffles and the round cheeks of my ass while his mouth chews and sucks my small nipples. He runs his hands down the backs of my thighs and I am dizzy with the truth that those kendo-toughened palms are the absolute most perfect texture in the world for giving pleasure to my skin.

Yuki’s mouth moves from side to side, roughly worrying, drawing on beaded flesh until my normally soft pink nipples are diamond hard and abraded to a painful flush. I’m panting and keening and squirming. I cup my breasts and feed the tiny distended nipples and swollen areolas between his lips. Yuki moans deep in his chest. He opens his mouth wide and he’s devouring me with wet sucking smacks and every time he draws hard on the tip, it tugs my womb and tightens that knot inside me a little tighter.

I reach for Yuki, wanting to touch him, but without looking at me he captures my hands and returns them to the slight swell of my chest. Again I reach for him, but he stops me. So I stand there caressing my breasts with hands shaking from desire, and watch him watch the glide of his hands down the pale gold skin of my legs.

The height and bulk of side buckle platform shoes and frilly red socks, as he planned, give me a little-girl-gone-bad-Lolita quality. My limbs appear long and coltish beneath the broad palms of his tough brown hands and the contrast between us…soft to hard…male to female…brother to sister…makes me cant my hips forward just a little, my body trying to draw him to the creaming flesh at the apex of my thighs.

“Yuki…” I gasp when his hands find the ruffles on my bottom again and he uses his grip to widen the crevice of my ass before mashing my cheeks back together. He repeats the process again. And then, again. I squirm in his grasp, needy little moans escaping with every breath. The small slippery lips of my pussy are forced apart and pushed back together, again and again, tiny muscles clenching. My engorged clit pulses and I further dampen the crimson fabric between my legs with each sweet contraction of my cunt.

I massage Yuki’s scalp and kiss his mouth with the best kind of desperation. I use my tongue to lap at his lips and the straight line of my teeth to worry his sulky lower lip. I eat at him and mash my mouth to his until our lips flatten against our teeth and it hurts. Lips stinging, throbbing, feeling huge, I ghost my mouth across his, barely touching, until Yuki can’t stand the itching-tickle and moaning low in his chest, he presses into me, biting my swollen lips until I taste blood. God, I love the way pain stings so sweetly when he does that…

Yuki comes to his feet in a smooth slither of lean muscles and grace and I am awed, as always, by the ease with which Yuki moves through space. My hands find the smooth abrasion of his jacket, wending beneath it to the smoother white cotton of his shirt. Damp heat is radiating off of him. I burrow my nose into his cloth-covered chest and inhale deeply, breathing in warm spice, deodorant, laundry detergent and a faint chemical dry cleaning smell from his jacket. The busy fingers of my left hand try to slide between his buttons and find bare flesh while the right tries to slip into his pants

“No.” Yuki tells me, moving my hands to his neck.

I’m aware that I’m making kittenish, hungry, sounds. I try to stop but every indrawn breath is accompanied by a tiny needy little mew. I stretch my body, arms going around his neck and I quiver, my hips, the very flesh on my bones reaching for him. I undulate, rubbing my body, my breasts, against Yuki’s clothed form. A button from his blazer abrades my tiny nipple and I gasp, moan. I repeat the movement, again, glorying in the sharp cold bite of the brass against my tender flesh.

Yuki’s hands, warm and slightly damp, are on my face, my neck…kneading my breasts and clutching my hips, snugging me tighter against the cooler fabric of his uniform, and beneath it, the lean muscles of his rangy body. Fingernails chafe ruffles with a nylon murmur. Yuki sighs my name and his teeth worry the bones of my collar.

I can’t breathe. Something huge is trying to escape from my body and I’m afraid it might be my soul. It’s growing from that spot right below the flexible bone of my sternum. Large and growing larger with each draw, each noisy, catchy, rush of air I drag into my lungs, it presses back and I can’t breathe.

Yuki turns me with shaking hands until I am facing away from him. I am gasping as if I’m drowning, and somewhere in my fogged brain, I understand that it’s true. I am drowning, without fear, in Yuki and reveling in it. Instinctively I move back until I’m touching him, trying to align us, his pegs to my notches. When he forces me away from his body I whimper at the distance and look back at him over my shoulder. Confused. Aching. Wanting.

Yuki looks at me and moans. He kisses my already puffy mouth a little roughly and when he pulls away, I follow his lips, trying to turn my body back around to face him.

“No.” He reinforces his command with his hands on my shoulders. With every labored breath, he stirs the wispy black strands of hair at the nape of my neck. “Don’t turn around and I’ll teach you how to do the Tokyo Rumba.”

I snort and try to laugh at his lunacy, but I feel him moving behind me and I can only gasp his name and shift restlessly in my skin. I am holding my breath. My desire for what only he can give to me licks my belly with fire. Anticipating, my muscles soften, then tense, then melt. Yuki moves close, not quite touching, and inhales deeply, breathing the scent of me. He is close enough that the very air heats and stirs, silking along my skin like the touch of a ghost. My heart pauses, stutters, and resumes beating. My body, my being, quivers in anticipation of him, of his touch.

I stand facing the big window over my bed. The sky beyond my window, beyond the trees, is that color of setting suns for which there no name. A color that is neither red nor orange. The room glows with apricot light and shadows deepen with each passing second, with each heartbeat. Half naked, drowning in my desire, my skin painted to radiance by colors that have no name, I know that I am changed in these moments with Yuki. Changed forever. Changed in ways I have no name for, perhaps, but changed.

A tiny bird is balanced on the birdfeeder on my windowsill, watching his own reflection with reptilian alertness. I hear the rustle of cloth and I listen breathlessly for the jangle of Yuki’s belt buckle signifying that at any moment his is going bend me sweetly over the bed, slip the frilly panties down to my knees and work the swollen girth of his cock into me.

He takes both my wrists in his hand, and I bend forward, eagerly giving him access to my weepy little cunt. Yuki stops the forward momentum of my body and pulls both arms behind my back, holding them there. The small taut mounds of my breast are thrust forward, my back arching from the pressure of his hold. My little pink nipples are puffy and fiercely erect from Yuki’s sucking mouth, his chewing teeth. I look at myself and I’m aroused by this evidence of my sexual arousal…of lust…of desire…of fucking…of my brother’s mouth loving me. I feel the cool glide of slick fabric slither across the pale crook of my elbows and something low and deep and darkly sexual clenches and rolls in my belly.

I am very still now. My heart is beating in huge slow thumps, like a taiko drum, echoing in my head and in the walls of my sex until I imagine that the room is pulsing, like too much bass on your stereo makes the walls writhe as if they are living. I understand now that something different is happening.

In all that Yuki and I have done…all those acts both sacred and profane. The sins so beautiful, so nasty, so wonderful, in all that, he has never done this. He has never bound me in with anything except lust, desire, love.

My body quivers as my brain recognizes the threat. I look back at him, eyes wide, unsure. He meets my eyes and not for the first time I see something in my brother that is very close to ruthlessness. I wait for words of comfort, for him to say we can stop anytime. I wait for him to say that what we are doing won’t include anything that I don’t want.

“This is the part, little-girl-Yui…” Yuki says, his voice deepening to something dangerous as he continues to wrap the silky fabric of his red and gold necktie around my forearms, from elbows to wrists. “This is the part where you beg me not to tie you up…”

Yuki’s tie feels sleek against my skin the same way his hands feel rough. Holding my breath, I can hear blood thundering in my body and a periodic, very faint, crackling-hiss where the calluses on Yuki’s hands are catching on the tiny fibers of the tie.

I watch him over my shoulder trying to catch his eye, but he deliberately avoids my gaze. His eyes are on my bound arms, watching his own fingers glide up and down the puffy little mounds created where the tie is sinking into my flesh.

My fingers, resting on my cheeks, are reflexively, nervously, worrying the edge of the ruffles.

“I want to fuck you.” His voice is hoarse and I am as addicted to the tight need, the sex, in that voice as any junkie is to their fix. “I always want to do that when I can see you.” His lips, damp and hot, are touching my ear. “Did you know that? Did you know that if I can see you, baby girl, I want to put my cock in that sweet tiny pink slit and fuck you until we cream all over each other?” Yuki is breathing as if something heavy is riding the rise and fall of his chest and his words are delivered on a draft of scorching air that calls another wave of gooseflesh from my sensitized skin.

I shiver and I can’t speak because my mouth is dry and I can’t seem to draw enough oxygen into my starving lungs. All the air in my body is being consumed by the blood pumping frantically to my heart in an effort to keep it from simply exploding.

“Is fucking my juicy little sister a perversion or a fetish?” His teeth sink into the delicate tendon between my neck and shoulder. I jerk, pussy creaming sodden panties.

“Hmm?” The inquisitive noise he vibrates against my ear is both sinister and seductive. I want to laugh because I think he’s joking but I can’t laugh because something like fear is mixing with arousal and I’m dizzy on cocktail.

“I think…” I falter, desire and darker things making me weak, breathless. “…it’s both…and exactly when did you start channeling de Sade?”